


Three-Step Program To Asking Out a Human

by scottmcniceass



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-18 23:11:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scottmcniceass/pseuds/scottmcniceass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Step-1: Apologize for past actions.<br/>Step-2: Gain their trust.<br/>Step-3: Make a move.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three-Step Program To Asking Out a Human

 

**Apologizing for Past Actions**

 

Derek’s waiting in his room when Stiles gets home. He’s sitting in Stiles’ computer chair, arms crossed over his chest, legs spread as wide as they chair will allow.

His bedroom window is still closed, which means that either Derek closed it behind him-- unlikely-- or he’d broken in the front or back door. Stiles sighed at that, because, really, like superhuman strength and healing weren’t enough. He also had to be skilled at breaking and entering? Or, entering, he corrects, since nothing was broken, that he could tell.

“What did I do this time?” Stiles asks, throwing his backpack onto his bed. “Or do you need my help with something? Because I’m pretty sure Peter has a laptop and there’s free wifi at, like, every coffee place in town. I’m sure you’re capable of using google yourself."

Derek rolls his eyes and shifts in the chair, just a bit. “I came to apologize.” He says, and that-- that was not at all what Stiles was expecting. Not at all, actually.

Was Derek even capable of apologizing? Technically, sure, but he was a big ball of emotional werewolf angst and brooding, so Stiles kind of doubts it.

“Alright,” Stiles says slowly, sitting on the edge of his bed. He copies Derek’s posture, crossing his arms over his chest. It’s probably a lot less intimidating when he does it, but he needs something to do with his hands, so it’s the best he’s got. “For what?”

Derek uncrosses his arms to rub a hand over his face. Eventually, he lets the hand drop and leans forward to prop his elbows on his knees and then he just sits there for a few moments, staring at his hands.

“Well, that was great, thanks, apology accepted,” Stiles says, pushing off from the bed. “Are we done here?”

Derek’s eyes flash red and Stiles quickly sits back down. The second he does, Derek’s eyes go back to that green/hazel colour they normally are, and he looks guilty and annoyed, at the same time.

“Now I have to apologize for that, too,” he says, like Stiles is actually _forcing_ him to do this. Like he didn’t come home to find Derek waiting for him. Like this is somehow _his_ fault.

“You’re really bad at this.” Stiles feels compelled to point out. “You know that, right?”

“At least I’m _trying_ ,” Derek grinds out.

“But _why_ , dude?” Stiles asks, leaning back on his heels. He watches Derek steadily. “I mean, why bother?”

“Because--,” Derek looks at the wall above Stiles’ head. “Because I’ve treated you badly, and most of the time you didn’t deserve it.”

“Most of the time.” Stiles repeats, raising an eyebrow.

“Can you just shut up for a minute?” Derek snaps, hands gripping the sides of Stiles’ chair too tightly for his comfort. If Derek wolfs out and claws through it, he’s totally buying Stiles a new one.

“You going to apologize for telling me to shut up?”

“No.” Derek says before sighing. “Look-- I’m sorry for pushing your head into the steering wheel.” He starts, and he’s still not meeting Stiles’ eyes, like this is hard for him, and Stiles can’t tell if he’s annoyed by this because, as far as apologies go, it’s not exactly sincere. But at the same time, the fact that he’s even trying at all is kind of insane. 

“You should be. My forehead bruised for a week.” Stiles tells him.

Derek makes an annoyed growling sound. “And I’m sorry for pushing you against the wall.” He goes on, and his hands have dropped to his lap and he alternates between balling them into fists and splaying them out wide on his thighs. “And for threatening to rip your throat out.”

“With your teeth.” Stiles adds, grinning. “But I think we both know you’d never actually do that. I’m too useful.”

Derek acts like Stiles didn’t speak. “And I apologize for breaking into your house today.” He concludes.

“There’s probably, like, a hundred more things you’re forgetting.” Stiles points out. “But, um,” he shrugs. “Apology accepted. And I guess I’m sorry too.”

Derek looks surprised now. “For what?”

Stiles shrugs again, and now it’s his turn to feel guilty. Sure, Derek can be a total dick sometimes -- most of the time--, but if he was trying to be the better person, well, Stiles could, too. “For all those times I proposed we kill you.”

Derek laughs at that, and it’s more barking than joyous but still. “Not that you actually could have.”

Stiles gives him a challenging look. “I wouldn’t be so sure, if I were you. It could still happen. Except Scott’s got this thing against murder, but I’m sure I could get Allison on board to help me."

Derek rolls his eyes and stands up, computer chair creaking. He walks to Stiles’ bedroom door and pulls it open before pausing and turning back to him. “Thank you.” Derek says.

And wow, this day couldn’t get any weirder? Apologies _and_   a thank you. Maybe Scott paid him to do it. 

“For what?” Stiles asks, eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

“For letting me apologize. You didn’t have to.” Derek explains, and then he’s down the hallway, walking down the stairs, out the back door, and gone.

And Stiles still has no idea what the fuck just happened.

 

* * *

**Gaining Their Trust**

 

Stiles is still pretty fucking confused about Derek. It’s like someone flipped a switch on his personality. 

Okay, not completely. He still tended to snap at Stiles whenever he rambles or does something Derek didn’t approve of. And he wasn’t exactly a warm, fuzzy teddy bear or anything. But he was trying to be nice. And it was weird.

Stiles doesn’t know how to deal with a  Derek that doesn’t threaten him bodily harm at every turn, or push him into things. In fact, Stiles hasn’t gotten a bruise in like, three weeks, and he’s waiting for the inevitable moment when Ashton Kutcher shows up with the cameras -- wait, he doesn’t host that show anymore, does he? -- and everyone admits that it was just a great, big joke so that Stiles would put his guard down just so Derek could pull the rug out from under him again.

But it just doesn’t come. And not only is Derek being nice but he’s being helpful. And, like, caring. It’s creepy. It’s definitely creepy.

Except it’s not and Stiles hates that he’s falling into exactly whatever plan Derek has that’s been motivating his actions lately, because Stiles no longer wants Derek to get hit by a bus. Not that that would kill him. In fact, he’s pretty sure if Derek walked into on coming traffic Stiles might actually yell at him for being reckless, and when the hell did Stiles start caring about Derek’s wellbeing?

“So how long do I have until you turn back to normal Derek?” Stiles decides to ask.

He’s sitting in his jeep, Derek beside him, watching the building just down the street. Okay, Derek’s watching. Stiles sadly doesn’t have the eyes for this kind of stakeout, but he does have the car, apparently, because a sleek black camaro is what people would expect you do drive to a stakeout in. Not a giant, light blue jeep that sticks out.

Derek doesn’t even turn to look at Stiles. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Stiles snorts. “Yeah, okay, so I’m just supposed to believe that, what, one minute you woke up and decided to pull the stick out of your ass?” Stiles demands. “Because I’m not buying whatever game this is, Derek, and it’s not funny.”

He only just catches the Derek’s fingers begin to clutch into a fist before he takes a deep breath and they return to normal. “It’s not a game, Stiles.”

Stiles laughs. “Okay, and I totally believe that.” He rolls his eyes towards the roof of the jeep. Oh, wow, there’s a pretty big scratch mark there. How the hell did that happen? “Just tell me why, then.”

Derek looks at him for the slightest moment before returning his eyes to the building down the street. “I’m working on things.” Derek says vaguely.

“Are you seeing a therapist?” Stiles asks, only slightly condescending out of habit.

Derek tenses. “No. I’ve just-- I’ve got a lot to make up for.”

“Ah, karma. So it is selfish, then.” Stiles nods. “Thought so, man. I mean, people don’t just decide to be better for no reason. There’s always a selfish intent.”

“Maybe I’m trying to make you _trust me_ ,” Derek snaps, pushing open the door to the jeep. “But obviously that’s not happening.”

Stiles scrambles to pull off his seatbelt and get out of the jeep. And he feels like an asshole while doing it, because the quick look Derek gave him before he slammed his own door behind himself was open and vulnerable and Stiles had never seen Derek look like that before. Not at him. It’s confusing, and it makes him feel like he’s walking on unsteady ground, and no matter which step he takes it’s going to end up crumbling under him and he’ll fall and fall and fall.

But he jogs to catch up with Derek, who is steadily walking away from the car, shoulders tensed and head lowered.

“I trust you,” Stiles calls after him, because even just walking Derek is fast. “You saved my life about five times,” Stiles adds, only slightly out of breath when he catches up with Derek.

“You don’t,” Derek says, and he shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. I don’t expect you to.”

“But I do,” Stiles insists, because it’s true. Sure, Derek may be probably the worst person ever when it comes to just about anything, but Stiles is pretty positive that if he could, Derek would always fight to save him, or Scott, or Isaac and Boyd and Erica. 

“If you did you wouldn’t be questioning me every time I was nice to you.” Derek points out.

“First of all, where the hell are we going?” He asks, because they’re not headed towards the building they were watching. They’re turning down a side street. “And second, you can’t blame me, dude. I’m getting emotional whiplash here, alright? One minute you’re all ‘I’m the alpha and I will hang you upside down by your ankle until you do what I say’, and then next you’re all… nice. It’s hard to deal with.”

“Would you rather I treat you badly?” Derek demands.

“No, but-- I’d like an explanation, maybe, so I could _understand_.” 

Derek shoves his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and shrugs his shoulders. “I told you, I’m trying to make up for things.”

“Okay,” Stiles says slowly, because he knows that’s the best answer he’s going to get. Just because Derek’s slightly less of an ass, doesn’t mean he’s suddenly an open book. “So where are we going?”

Derek smirks and continues walking. “Dinner.”

 

* * *

**Making a Move**

 

Stiles isn’t sure if they’re dates, or what. But every time anyone needs to pair up during their pack missions -- Stiles name for them, not Derek’s--, he finds himself in the passenger seat of the camaro, or with Derek sitting beside him in his jeep. And they tend to end with Stiles getting a free dinner at the restaurant of Derek’s choosing. 

And the thing is, he wants them to be dates. It’s stupid, he’s aware. Like, what kind of masochistic moron develops a crush on an alpha werewolf? One that looks the way Derek Hale does, with his stupid stubble and his stupid abs and eyes and -- yeah, he’s just stupid. And so is Stiles.

But it’s not like they ever talk about it, and whenever anyone else in the pack brings it up, teasingly or serious, Derek just yells at them and Stiles denies it vehemently. 

It’s driving him crazy, though. He’s only ever really liked one other person, and that was Lydia. With Lydia, it’s not like he’d ever actually convinced himself that she was reciprocating in any way. But with Derek, there’s that stupid sliver of hope that he clings to every time he’s dropped off at his house by Derek, or every time Derek pushes Stiles behind him during a fight -- not that Stiles can’t protect himself, thanks, but it’s the thought that counts--, that’s making him lose his mind.

Eventually, just like before, he ends up being the one to bring it up. The camaro is idling out front of Stiles’ house. His dad’s not home, which is probably good because as funny as it would be to see his dad freak out over that, it’d also be really terrifying.

“What is this?” He asks, waving a hand between himself and Derek.

Derek raises his eyebrows. “What is what?”

“ _This_ ,” he says, frustrated. “You being nice to me, you taking me out to freaking _dinner_ , like we’re _dating,_ or something.”

Derek narrows his eyes. “If you didn’t want me to take you to dinner you could just say so.”

“That’s not-- you know that’s not it.” Stiles tells him, crossing his arms over his chest. “I just don’t get why, because it feels a hell of a lot like you like me sometimes, but then whenever I wait for you to maybe kiss me, or make it official or something, you just drive off in your stupid car and leave me confused as hell.”

“You want me to kiss you?” Derek asks, turning to him.

“Really? That’s what you focus on?” Stiles sighs. “Maybe, yeah. I don’t know. I wouldn’t be opposed to it. I mean, I’ve never actually kissed anyone, and you wouldn’t be a terrible first kiss. It’s not like I like you or anything, though.”

“Okay.” Derek nods. “That’s fine. That’s all you had to say.” He puts his hand on the gear shift and raises his eyebrows at Stiles. “Are you going to get out now?”

“What? No!” Stiles shakes his head and clicks down the lock on his door, in case Derek tries to force him out of the car. “Not until we talk about this. Because I really don’t like being jerked around, Derek.”

“What do you want from me, Stiles?” Derek asks, groaning. “Because I’m trying really hard to figure it out but I can’t.”

“I want an explanation, you know I do. And I don’t want any of that, “I’m trying to be a better person,” bullshit again. I want the real reason.”

The flash of red in Derek’s eyes only last a second. “Fine,” he snaps, turning to face Stiles. “You want to know? I’ve been trying to be someone you might actually want to have kiss you. Someone you might actually want to go on a date with, or be with. But apparently you’re just not into it. And that’s fine. I get it. Are we done here? I have places I need to be.”

Stiles stares at him, at the slight flush in Derek’s cheeks, the way his fingers curl over the steering wheel so tight it’s a surprise it doesn’t break. The way he’s breathing almost heavily, like he’d just run a mile when they both know neither of them has really moved in about fifteen minutes.

“Wait,” Stiles holds up his hand and blinks. “You-- you like me. That’s what you’re trying to say.”

“Would you like me to _spell it out for you_?” Derek growls. 

“Why didn’t you just say that?” Stiles shouts at him, suddenly worked up. “I’m not a mind reader! I’ve never had anyone like me before, Derek, and I’m pretty sure you know that! God, you are the most confusing person I’ve ever met and you actually think I was supposed to realize that?”

“You’re pretty smart.” Derek shrugs. “I didn’t think it’d be that hard to pick up on.”

“Yeah, well, it was.”

“Just get out of the car, Stiles.” Derek mutters, looking out the window. 

“No.” Stiles says defiantly, because they’re actually making progress here, why the hell should he just leave?

“Stiles,” it’s that new threatening tone, the one that doesn’t imply bodily harm but that still makes him feel cold and shivery all over.

Stiles reaches for the door handle and pushes open the door. “Fine, but if you actually like me you’d do something about it, because I’m not going to be sitting here waiting forever for you to make a move.”

He slams the door behind himself and doesn’t look back as he stomps towards the house. His key misses the hole three times and he curses and prays that Derek didn’t see any of that, because he was trying to be dramatic here.

But then a hand curls over his and easily guides the key into the lock and twists, pushing open the door. Derek’s so close to him, pressing against his back, and he’s warm, but the buttons of his jacket and pressing in a bit too hard for his liking, so he turns.

“What?” He asks, taking a step backwards into the house.

“I thought you said to make a move.” Derek arches an eyebrow.

Stiles swallows thickly and opens his mouth to say that he didn’t think Derek would actually do it. But then he’s doing it, putting a hand on Stiles’ arm to hold him still and pressing his lips against Stiles’, gentle and soft and really not expected. Kissing Derek should be rushed and dangerous and burning, but this is just a low simmer, warm and pleasant and almost sweet. His body kind of slips into Derek’s and he wraps his arms around his waist, holding him closer.

“Okay?” Derek asks, pulling back.

Stiles nods and grips the sides of Derek’s jacket, keeping him from backing away. Not that he couldn’t break out of the embrace if he really wanted to, Stiles knows. Apparently he doesn’t, though. So Stiles kisses him again, deciding that he’s allowed.

“So are we dating?” Stiles asks, words whispering against Derek’s lips.

Derek doesn’t answer but he kisses Stiles again, so he takes that as a yes.

**Author's Note:**

> This is cross-posted from tumblr, I'm just attempting to get a feel of uploading to this site. Any and all reviews are not only appreciated, but encouraged and begged for!


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